


Hotline Bling

by aurics



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Winter, because i'm into that stuff, gratuitous Kuroo with his hair tied back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-09 19:03:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5551691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurics/pseuds/aurics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenma gets too absorbed in his games and always ends up getting lost in one train station or another. Meanwhile, there seems to be a very noticeable pattern in Kuroo's call history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hotline Bling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunny_umbrella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunny_umbrella/gifts).



> To my recipient: I was scrolling through your prompt tag and stumbled upon this, and it made me laugh real hard for some reason. I also really wanted to give back to the pinch-hitters who undoubtedly have worked super hard. So I kind of sat down and wrote this, and as usual it kind of went out of control. I hope you'll still enjoy this though! Happy holidays.
> 
> Written with very little knowledge about Japanese railway systems and train routes in general... Let's all pretend it's relatively easy for university students to drive in Japan... I just wanted Kuroo to pick kenma up lmao. also let's forget about the biggest plot hole in this (cough google maps cough) and marinate in the delicious kuroken.
> 
> This song has been stuck in my head for ages. Someone help me get it out.

 

 

Rhythm games have never been Kenma’s strong suit. In combat games, he knows his reflexes win out but for some reason, even his speedy reflexes can’t conform to the beat or melody of the songs. So it comes as a surprise that he finds himself unable to take his eyes off of ‘ _Love Live_ ’ —  a game Shouyou introduced to him a couple of days ago —  lest he misses a crucial beat and his near-perfect combo is broken. 

He sighs as he finishes yet another live show with a single ‘ _Good_ ’ tarnishing his perfect streak, and is about to start another one when he hears an announcement for his train. The track quietly rumbles as it approaches, Kenma looking up just long enough to see the headlights glaring in the dark before returning to his game, earphones plugged in as he concentrates on choosing a song he’ll enjoy. After all, Kenma has trained himself in the art of sidestepping strangers without the need of peeling himself away from his highly-engaging games.

The train hisses to a stop and the doors open to let the stream of people shuffle in, carrying Kenma with the current. He ends up vacating the spot near the door of the train. He mentally notes that four stops, one transfer, and another three stops will get him home. The live show starts, and he quickly flexes his fingers in preparation for the onslaught of red rings and intense tapping.

He misses the first jolt of the train stopping. And the second. And the third. 

When he looks up again, the train has stopped and he quickly walks out, conscious of blocking other people’s path. But as soon as he sets foot on the platform and the train’s doors slide shut, he freezes.

He blinks at the blue wall of the station. 

“Maybe they got a repaint,” he mumbles, remembering that yesterday the wall was soft pink in colour. He walks towards the exit, heading for the next platform that would take him home. He does a double-take at the overhead sign.

He sighs. “This is not happening."

He unlocks his phone to look through his ‘ _Recent’_ calls and clicks on the first name on the list.

_Kuroo_

“Hey, what’s up?” Kuroo sounds like he’s out of breath, and his voice is almost drowned out by the shouting Kenma can hear in the background. He must have stayed back for extra practice at his university, Kenma thinks.

“The trains don’t happen to have been rerouted last night, right?"

Kuroo is obviously taken aback by the question, if the question mark in his voice is any indication. “Hmm… uh, no? I… don’t think so?"

Kenma purses his lips, turning around to take the other set of stairs. “And I’m supposed to take the red line back home, right?” He whines to himself when he sees that the sign above the other set of stairs also unmistakably reads ‘ _Green Line_ ’.

“After you take blue, yeah,” he reaffirms. “Is something wrong?"

“I think I got off at the wrong station.” Kenma tries to keep his voice neutral, but all he wants to do is groan in despair. “And I don’t really know where this line goes to. I’ve never had to take it."

A beat of silence passes before Kuroo laughs, finally understanding the situation. “Woah, again? That’s like, the third time this week — and it’s only Thursday!"

“So do you know where to go or not?"

“Hold on, I’m going to be on my way home soon so we can meet up at the station, and we can take trains to the Red Line together from there.” There’s rustling in the background, and Kuroo’s muffled voice bellowing _Good work, everyone!_ before the squeaking of shoes against the gym floor fades away and Kuroo’s words sound crystal clear across the phone. “Okay, so from the Green Line…"

After Kuroo relays the directions to him, Kenma locks his phone and trudges up the stairs, heading for the right platform with a significantly lighter heart. Kenma thinks having Kuroo as a best friend is a lot like being spoiled rotten, because not two minutes later, Kenma is taking his phone out again, eager to continue where he left off.

 

 

*

 

 

Real-life debates might be a pointless pursuit in Kenma’s eyes, but in _Danganronpa_  he knows the better he performs, the closer he’ll be to cracking the game. This particular session of Class Trial is remarkably intense; probably thanks to his late-night research on Google and across various Reddit threads, only going by his limited English knowledge. He’s so absorbed in pondering over the claims of different students that he doesn’t realise his station is announced just as he’s about to shoot a Truth bullet.

There’s an odd sense of déja-vu as he pulls out his phone from his pocket and irritatedly presses on the first number in his ‘ _Recent’_ list. He’s perched on the bottom of the steps, empty save for a couple of people hurrying to get to their stations. 

“Kuroo Tetsurou at your service, how may I help you?” His voice, sickeningly saccharine, comes as a relief to Kenma.

“I’m lost again."

“I thought you were calling for some advice on the the Class Trials, but I guess not. Oh, well. So where are you?"

“Purple Line. Also, you haven’t even played the game.” 

“Oops,” replies Kuroo unapologetically.

 

 

*

 

 

Kenma is past hoping for his momentary lapse in judgement to be a recurring case, because soon it becomes clear that it is.

“Let me guess, Lime Line? Tangerine Line? Emerald, or Jade?” 

“Orange,” Kenma grumbles back. “You’re saying nonsense."

And another occurence, at twenty-five minutes to midnight after Kenma has stayed back to help the coach plan for their next set of away practice games, Kuroo answers after the fourth ring — he usually always answers within the first two — and mumbles, voice weighed down by sleep:

“Wher’ver you are… better hurry... trains will stop soon,” And, as good measure, “Get someth’n warm to drink, pretty chilly out there."

But never once does he tell Kenma to stop playing his games on the train, knowing that they’re important to Kenma — and Kuroo would never want to take that away from him.

 

 

* 

 

 

The weather is especially chilly today, and Kenma thinks Lev had a point when he nagged Kenma for not dressing himself up properly, because he’s been sneezing non-stop during practice today. After acquiring Nekomata-sensei’s permission to go home early, Kenma gives his teammates a heavy wave, a sneeze and a sniffle before dragging himself across the school to head for the exit.  

By the time he reaches the station, his legs have turned into pathetic jellies and he struggles to keep himself from toppling into commuters crowded on the platform, squeezing his eyes shut to drive away the dull thud at the back of his head. When he spots a vacant seat in the train, he all but collapses on it, breath heaving from the physical exertion he put up with the entire day. The train has never felt warmer and cosier, the motion of the train lulling him into a relaxed state — before long, Kenma has fallen asleep.

“Kuro,” is the first word Kenma utters when he wakes up, his phone clutched to his ear, and his cheeks red, angry at the cold. 

“Kind of early for that, aren’t you?” The smirk in Kuroo’s tone is impossible to miss. 

“I fell asleep."

“Your voice sounds really hoarse, are you alright?” 

“Not really, that’s why I headed home earlier than usual.” He grits his teeth as a shiver runs up his spine. “And it’s starting to snow." 

“For god’s sake — yes, that’s what the weather forecast said earlier. Why are you standing outside? Just go back inside and let me know where you are. The trains would probably be delayed if you take them now. I’ll pick you up."

“Isn’t your university pretty far from here?” Kenma asks, worried.

“Not risking the chance of you getting stuck in a station while you’re in _that_  state. Don’t sweat it, I’m already on my way."

The noise of an engine starting up is heard through the receiver, and Kenma frowns a little deeper. “Drive safely…"

“Sure thing."

It doesn’t take Kenma two seconds to fall back asleep once strapped in Kuroo’s car with the heater turned up and the entire vehicle smelling _just like Kuroo_. Unbeknownst to him, before reaching Kenma’s house Kuroo parks the car in an empty lot to allow him an extra bit of sleep, all the while softly sifting his hands through his blonde hair and dark roots.

  

* 

 

That night, Kuroo sends Kenma 7 pictures on LINE, all being screenshots of his call history. It seems more like an endless loop of ‘ _Kenma’_ than anything else.

_Look at this!!!_

Kenma laughs silently, saving every screenshot to his Camera Roll.

  

*

 

Kuroo bends down and brings a hand to his damp forehead, keeping the dark strands of his hair out of his face with his hand. He really needs to get a haircut soon. Although today's practice session is far from intense, Kuroo is having trouble seeing properly with his hair in the way. He calls out to one of the girls watching on the bench for a hairtie — anything will do at this point — and keeps his bangs in a tight bundle on the top of his head. That should do it.

His phone abruptly rings, a Christmas song jingling meekly in the noisy gym. Seeing the caller’s ID, an amused grin splits his face and he promptly forgets all about his exhaustion.

“I think your New Year’s Resolution should be ‘To memorise Tokyo’s train system.’"

“I’ll consider it,” replies Kenma dryly. “I’m at your university’s stop, but my usual train’s… uh, it’s been canceled.” After a pause, he continues, “Help me out?"

“Of course, heading there right now.” Kuroo slings his sports bag over his shoulder. “But how did you wind up near my uni? It’s pretty far out from your usual route."

“Dunno, felt like exploring a little? You told me to get to know the railway system better anyway."

Kuroo chuckles. “That, I did."

Before long, Kuroo spots Kenma standing near the entrance of the station, leaning against the wall, bundled up in a thick scarf and a parka and, of course, engrossed in one game or another on his PSP. He smoothly sidles up next to him and waits until it’s safe for Kenma to pause the game.

“Hey, there. Happy almost-New Year,” greets Kuroo as he takes note of how the tip of Kenma’s nose is red from the cold.

Kenma’s eyes widen, his mouth still pressed into a thin line and Kuroo recognises it as the expression Kenma reserves only for freshly-released, freshly-bought games. “Your hair."

“What?” Kuroo brings a hand up to his hair in panic. “What about it?"

“You tied it back."

“Oh,” he shrugs. “Yeah, I need to get it cut soon."

Kenma is silent for a while, before he continues, “It looks good on you."

“Wow, who’s been teaching my Kenma compliments while I was away?” Kuroo cackles, silently prancing with glee. “So, what brings you here?"

“I didn’t get to visit you on your birthday,” Kenma huffs out, breath coming in small puffs of white in the cold. “So I’ve got a little something for you."

“Aw, Kenma, you didn’t have to.” Kuroo pulls Kenma’s arm reeling him into an embrace. Kenma doesn’t squirm or protest like he usually does, so Kuroo takes it as a good sign and nuzzles into his hair. “Thank you, I really appreciate it."

“No problem. Now let go of me so I can give it to you.” With a gleam in his eyes, Kenma holds out his hand once Kuroo finally releases him. “Here."

He presents an envelope, the perfect size for a card.

“Oho, what’s this? A birthday card professing your love for me?"

“Just open it."

Kuroo sighs, pouting. “You don’t appreciate my jokes, sometimes I really —"

He stops short, because on three sides of the folded card are pictures of his call history; all depicting Kenma’s caller ID with various different timestamps. On the last page, in Kenma’s very familiar scrawl, is a simple ‘ _Thank you.'_

“It’s kind of weird if I say it directly, so…” Kenma shifts in his place, mumbling. “Happy belated birthday, Kuro."

Kuroo can’t help it. He starts laughing — not to mock Kenma, not because the situation is ridiculous that it’s almost unbelievable, but because knowing that his actions have been appreciated. Because he’s happy, so happy that the importance they place on each other is mutual.

Not that Kuroo needs any reassurance, though. He already knows that.

Not caring that they’re out in the streets, outside of a relatively busy station, Kuroo steps closer to Kenma, a sincere smile on his face. “Thank you,” he places a tender kiss on Kenma’s forehead. “Thank you."

 

 

*

 

When Lev introduces Kenma to Google Maps, he refuses to download it. Having Kuroo is enough, after all.

 

 


End file.
